


Key of Hedonism Minor

by fenerkulesi



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenerkulesi/pseuds/fenerkulesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he fucks you, it isn't you he thinks about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Key of Hedonism Minor

When he fucks you, it isn't you he thinks about.

 

You don't care, really. Honestly? You'd be more surprised if he did. It isn't supposed to be anything more than that. You're just using each other, and all it is is one more way how. It's a way to occupy time, his more than yours, before the next Grail War comes around. You both know it will happen, it's just a matter of when, and what to do before then.

 

Of course he comes up with many solutions in his quest to find 'all the pleasures of the world' or whatever, and you aren't surprised to find out that his favorite one is the most obscene. He looks at you the way he did when you made the contract, and you let him think you want it just as much. You don't, not really. The amount of times you're in the mood and actually want it is never, but at the same time you don't care enough to say no. The first time you do anything like that with him is after the war. The first time you do anything like that with him he does it like he's forgotten what it's like and spends the next week like a bitch in heat. It's hilarious, but a bit too distracting.

 

There's blood, always, there's blood. He likes it rough, and you like it better that way too. He isn't the only one to spill it; that's your only condition. He was furious at first – _what does a mongrel think to cut me?_ You said that he's not divine anymore, no matter how much he thinks he is, and in that body the once-mighty King of Heroes is an animal just like the rest of you, especially at the height of passion. You don't think you've ever seen him that angry, before or since; the only thing that stayed his hand was your reminding him he'll never see Saber again without you.

 

If he had struck you down, it would have been worth it just for that _look_. It was all you could do to keep a straight face, all you could do to keep yourself from laughing right there.

 

He ignored you for a year after that; when he decided to fuck you again you considered thanking him for the break. You knew he'd come back eventually; all that surprised you on his return is that he's managed to avoid contracting every venereal disease known to medicine. You ran your fingernails down his chest, and you did draw blood. He glared daggers at you and did nothing else. You pulled him into yourself as far as you could and he forgot all about it. It proved your point, and he snarled and said fine, do what you want, I don't care. It's as good as a concession, coming from him.

 

His arrogance doesn't bother you. If anything, it only serves to make him that much more interesting. What it does do, though, is blind him. He's completely oblivious; he can't see how he's rotting from the inside. You decide you're just going to watch, and not even try to lift a finger. It's much more entertaining this way. He has his little game that he just can't wait to play again, and you'll be watching when he does. How could you not be? Even though you're quite sure how it'll play out, you want to see it happen. He doesn't realize it's suicide, no, he thinks she'll bow to him someday. He's completely missing that the timeline won't quite work out that way. On the small chance that he is successful, her sword will pierce his heart or his throat first and he will never see her knees touch the ground.

 

You don't know how he spends his time, except to know that whatever he does, she's always at the back of his mind. He can do what he wants; there are other things that need to be taken care of. There are times you don't see him at all for days on end, but those are few and far between. You see him most days, but not most nights. He's temperamental, fickle, and still takes a lot of time to himself.

 

Sometimes, sometimes, he'll come to you late at night, when you're just finishing your work for the evening. He gets between you and the desk and climbs onto you, straddles your hips, seductively, and he's too busy whispering poison into your ear to catch the sneer on your face. Hedonism, you've always despised people like him. He knows just how to manipulate your body; four thousand years or so is more than enough time to learn. You let him lead you to your bed. He does it slowly, having too much fun playing with you, arousing every part of you before he actually fucks you, in a way that, if it was anybody else and there wasn't any bloodletting, you'd call gentle.

 

After that he stays awake for a while, tracing patterns whose meanings are known only to him on your chest when he thinks you're asleep. You don't know what he's thinking; you couldn't care less and you've never chanced seeing his expression.

 

Then there are nights like tonight, when you're already in bed, and he comes storming into your room, comes back from God-knows-where reeking of booze. He tears off your clothes and you can tell he barely recognizes you but he fucks you anyway, hard, like his life depends on it, and he'll be asleep before his head hits the pillow. Rarely, so rarely, on nights like these that are uncommon in themselves he'll say your name instead of hers. Tonight, incidentally, is one of them. When that happens you just roll your eyes. He never notices that he does it nor does he notice your reaction; he's too busy trying to get fire out of himself. Whatever.

 

You let your mind wander. He'll go to you before he'll go to a street whore. You don't know if it means he values you more or less; you can rationalize it both ways and as much as you're sure it's the latter, you don't want to know. So you just let him. You don't know why he comes all the way back here and seeks you out. He strikes you as the type to prefer someone much more lively, and you're never interested enough to play along. It's odd when all you do is lay there, when it's almost like he's fucking a corpse.

 

Somewhat literally, at that.

 

Tonight he barely remembers to pull out once he finishes, deciding to use his last bit of energy kissing you, conciliatory, like he wants you to think he recognizes you after all. He tastes like wine and lightning, and to you it's unpleasant. You shove him over, and he falls into your shoulder. You adjust your position, letting your fingers sift through his hair. He moves closer to you, stirs slightly and rests his head on your chest, and drapes his arm over your body. His hold is firm even in sleep. Your gaze hardens.

 

He sleeps in your presence, and bares his throat to you; clearly he thinks nothing of it. To him you aren't a threat, and there's no way he realizes just how vulnerable he makes himself around you. All that time as a spirit took away that fear of death, of course it would have. He trusts you with his life and you can't imagine why, except to think that it never occurs to him that you could take it, effortlessly. You murdered Tohsaka, and he fails to realize that you could just as easily do the same to him. But no, you won't, you're having too much fun with him for the time being. He knows you'll do nothing, but not for the reasons he thinks. You could, you've been so tempted.

 

So. Your reason for letting him do it, isn't it obvious?

 

It isn't to him, it's something incomprehensible to him and he will never understand, and that makes it all the more sweeter. Gilgamesh certainly has a way with the flesh, but you don't care about that. There's nothing about it to motivate you and you would be just fine without it entirely. No, it's the look in his eyes as he pounds you into the mattress, the way he starts off with her name on his lips but will always get so far gone he can't keep it there. It's intoxicating because of what it means, because of what he can't and will never see, and you've become utterly addicted; it's the most powerful drug and you just can't get enough. The Grail gave him a body, but of course that body was corrupted, and that obsession will destroy it. Destroy him. More and more, little by little. Every time he fucks you, a tiny bit more is gone. Every time he fucks you, it's one more step down the road to his end. That's the part that excites you more than anything. That's why you let him do it, so you have a front-row seat to watching him kill himself.

 

And that disgusts you.

 

But as much as it does? When you know he's not around, you laugh yourself sick.


End file.
